


Try Traumatized

by TheHoardingPuffin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: 1x16 Aftermath, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Podfic Welcome, Post 1x16, Sort Of, Temporary Character Death, Training Simulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHoardingPuffin/pseuds/TheHoardingPuffin
Summary: „Hurt? Try traumatized!“Or: Dick and Bruce deal with the aftermath of the failed training simulation
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	Try Traumatized

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening, fellow nerds!  
> It's currently 1:05 am and I just finished a new oneshot. Basically I've been rewatching Young Justice and I found that the whole simulation thing in 1x16 wasn't dealt with very well (I know, it's a kids show but whatever). It was a simulation, yeah, but these kids sort of still died, and they will forever remember that and there was literally a line from Dick going "Try traumatized" and - I just wanted some content that deals with this whole thing, so here it is. Enjoy.   
> As always, comments and kudos are food for the writer's soul and creativity.   
> Loads of love,   
> Lotta

How had things gone so wrong so quickly? That question was going around and around in Bruce’s head as he tried to focus on his paperwork.

Of course, nobody could have foreseen M’gann, or rather, her subconscious, taking over the simulation, but still – how had they allowed for this to happen?

All the kids had known it was just that, a simulation, going in. They had known it wasn’t real.

Until they had forgotten.

For God’s sake – they could have slipped into an eternal coma! Bruce didn’t even want to imagine this. Didn’t want to think about these children, because that was what they were, _mere_ _children_ , remaining unconscious, truly believing that they were dead.

He already had nightmares about his son dying either way. Now, the image of Dick lying on his back, face pale, chest barely moving, his body stiller than it ever was, was burned into Bruce’s mind, and this time, it hadn’t just been a nightmare-vision. For a moment at least, it had been real.

And not just for him. For everyone – for mentors and kids alike.

Bruce couldn’t even begin to imagine what it had to be like – to think that you had actually died, only to wake up and find out it had been nothing more than an illusion.

Even if Dick and his teammates knew consciously that it hadn’t been real, they still had died and come back to life in some way.

That sort of thing was due to screw with the mind, Bruce knew this.

Right after they had returned from the Young Justice Cave, Dick had excused himself, mumbling about a headache and _going to lie down_. Bruce knew better. He knew that Dick had gone down to the cave, to the side chamber that Bruce had built for him during his very first year, a room with high ceilings, filled with trapeze equipment and aerial silks and so on forth, everything a young circus acrobat could dream of. Back then, Dick hadn’t liked it much, had thought it to be too fancy, too new and shiny. But now, several years later, the room had become Dick’s refugium, a safe place, somewhere he could hide if he needed it. And he probably needed to feel safe now more than ever.

It was sort of funny, Bruce thought – that spinning around in the air, with only some matts on the ground to catch him, and no nets at all, Dick felt safer than upstairs in his own room. Then again, his son had been raised on the ropes and nets, so it came to his as natural as breathing.

For a while, Bruce considered going down there to talk to Dick, or to at least check in on him via the video cameras, but he decided against it. If Dick needed him, he would let him know.

Hopefully.

One way or another, he definitely would not intrude on his son’s privacy.

Even though he was itching to go and check, to make sure Dick was okay, that he –

No.

Not yet. He had to give Dick his space.

Dick didn’t come to eat. He didn’t even excuse himself – there was just a moment when Bruce and Alfred could hear the door down to the cave open and shut, and steps on the stairs and in the hallway.

Bruce had told Alfred everything, of course, and had asked him for advice, but his butler didn’t know what to do either, other than to leave the boy his space for now and to offer comfort if he asked. It was the first time both of them had found themselves clueless. They had known, at least partially, how to deal with death of family, back then Dick had first come to the Manor, but how did one deal with coming back to life?

Dinner was uncomfortably quiet and strangely lonely without Dick at the table. Normally, the three of them ate together, no matter how busy Bruce was, no matter how much homework Dick had, this was the one time they actually sat together, and normally, during the meal, Dick would talk so much – about school, about being Robin, about the Young Justice team and their latest mission, about anything that came to mind, really – that Alfred would remark dryly “your food is getting warm again”.

Now, without Dick’s chatter, there was little more sound than the scraping of fork and knives on porcelain. Neither Bruce nor Alfred felt like talking.

After they had eaten Alfred, without uttering a word, put some of the still-warm soup and vegetables in bowls, put them on a tray and gave it to Bruce, one eyebrow quirked up as a question. Bruce nodded, took the tray, and walked upstairs and to his son’s room. Lightly, he knocked on the door.

“Dick? Can I come in?”

No sound from the other side of the door.

“I’ve got some food.”

Was that a sniffle? Maybe. Bruce knocked again. “Dick?”

This time, he heard a small “yeah?” from inside. Slowly, he opened the door. The lights were on – all of them. The ceiling light, the light next to the bed, the various string-lights Dick had taped over his bed, on the edge of his wardrobe and along the walls. The boy himself was sitting on his bed, leaned against the headboard, wearing a large blue knitted jumper and holding a beaten-up stuffed elephant tight against his chest. Sneaky glistening lines were drawn on his face with tears.

“Hey, chum.” Bruce gently placed the tray on the desk, then sat down on the bed. “How are you holding up?”

Dick sniffed. “I don’t know.” 

Bruce nodded and said nothing, waiting for Dick to make a move. He didn’t.

“Anything I can do?”, Bruce asked, softly. Dick shrugged.

“Think you can eat a bit?”

Dick looked over to the tray, then nodded. Bruce offered a small smile and went to get the tray. He stayed sitting on the bed as Dick picked at the vegetables and ate a few spoonful of the soup.

“Dick, I… I know this won’t help but… I am so sorry this happened to you. All of you. I’m so sorry.”

Dick looked up. “Not your fault. You didn’t know. Got us out in the end.”

Bruce sighed. “I know – but it shouldn’t have happened.”

Dick shrugged. “We’ll be fine.”

_We_. Not _I._ _We_.

Dick managed to eat a little more before pushing the tray back a bit and mumbling something about being tired. Bruce nodded, gave him a kiss on the forehead, reminded him that whatever happened, he could come get him, or call of him, and took the tray back downstairs.

Bruce woke up in the middle of the night, with a low heavy feeling that something was _very_ wrong. He checked the window, and the security system, and when both were secure and nothing seemed amiss, he walked over to Dick’s room. He didn’t bother with knocking, hearing his son’s whimpers from inside.

The lights were still all on, and Dick was in his bed, tossing and turning, whimpering and mumbling in sleep, breathing much too fast.

“Dick! Hey, Dick!” Bruce sat down on the bed, reaching forward, gently shaking his son on the shoulder. “Wake up, you’re okay, wake up-“  
Dick’s eyes shot open, but he didn’t seem quite there yet, and he tried to move away, clawing at his own arms with blunt fingernails until Bruce grabbed his wrists, holding them without any force.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself”, he said gently. “Hey, it’s okay, look at me, look at me, Dick…”

Panicked, wide blue eyes found his, and Dick seemed to deflate, sinking back against the pillow.

“ _Dad_?”

Bruce’s heart ached at the small voice.

“Yeah, chum, it’s me.” He gently pulled Dick into a sitting position and against his chest. Immediately, Dick held onto his shoulder and his sleepshirt, burying his face against his chest and sobbing quietly. Bruce ran one hand up and down Dick’s back and the other carded gently through the thick black hair, and he mumbled softly, trying his best to calm his panicked son.

“That’s it”, he said. “You’re okay.”

Dick choked on another sob and mumbled in a mix of Romani dialect, English and Romanian that Bruce didn’t even attempt to understand. He just kept holding the shaking teenager, trying to offer him comfort and protection.

“ _Dad_? Bruce?”, Dick finally whispered.

“Yeah?”

“It’s… scary.”

“What is?”

“I was… back there. In the… simulation. But this time it was… was… I felt the things.”

“What things?”

“When we…” He hiccupped. “When we were in the simulation… nothing _hurt_ so much.”

“You are hurting?” Bruce forced himself to keep his voice level and low. “Physically?”

“I don’t know.” Dick nuzzled a bit closer to Bruce’s chest. “It just hurts… in my chest… and it’s scary-… like Haly’s again."

Another sob.

“It _hurts_ … I don’t wanna die, Bruce, I don’t...”

Bruce took a deep breath and moved until he could lean his forehead against Dick’s, still holding the boy closely. “You’re not back there, Dick. It wasn’t real. You are alive, okay? Alive.”

Dick exhaled shakily. “W-wally?”

“Wally too. And Artemis and Kaldur and the rest of the team.” Bruce kissed his son’s forehead and his hand drew circles on his back. “You are all alive. It’s okay.”

Slowly, but surely, Dick relaxed in his arms, and his breathing evened out a bit.

“That’s it, Dick”, Bruce whispered. “You’re okay. There you go… You wanna try to sleep some more?”

Dick made a small noise and then whispered an “Okay”.

Bruce lowered him down onto the bed again and tugged the warm blankets around him, then crawled in with him, waiting until Dick curled against his chest, tugging his head under Bruce’s chin.

“ _Me mangav tut_ ”, he whispered.

“I love you too, chum.”


End file.
